


Fictober 2020

by DuskyDestra



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), RWBY
Genre: Disaster Lesbians all the way down, Established Relationship, F/F, Failed Attempt at Emotional Manipulation, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control, Mirror Sex, Missing Scene, One Shot Collection, Overcoming Nightmares, Sending Shenanigans with Jester, chaos crew - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 11,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26745394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuskyDestra/pseuds/DuskyDestra
Summary: This is my collection of Fictober oneshots. Since the description got too long for AO3, the table of contents has been moved to Chapter 1. With the exception of one PWP, which is labeled as such, these fics range from Gen to Teen.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Ilia Amitola/Blake Belladonna, Jester Lavorre/Yasha
Comments: 18
Kudos: 98





	1. Table of Contents

Chapter 2: “No, come back!” + “You don’t see it?” - Ilia/Blake

Chapter 3: “That’s the easy part.” - Yasha & Caduceus

Chapter 4: "You did this?" - Ilia

Chapter 5: “That didn’t stop you before.” + “I’m not doing that again.” - Ilia

Chapter 6: “Unacceptable, try again.” - Beau & Dairon

Chapter 7: “That was impressive.” - Beau/Yasha

Chapter 8: “Yes I did, what about it?” - Beau & Caleb

Chapter 9: “Will you look at this?” - Beau/Yasha PWP

Chapter 10: "All I ever wanted." - Ilia/Blake

Chapter 11: "I told you so." - Mighty Nein beach day

Chapter 12: "Watch me." - Beau/Yasha

Chapter 13: “I missed this.” - Ilia/Blake

Chapter 14: "You better leave now." - Yasha

Chapter 15: “I never wanted anything else.” + “And neither should you.” - Beau & Yasha

Chapter 16: “Give me a minute or an hour. Definitely an hour." - Beau/Yasha & Jester

Chapter 17: “I can’t do this anymore.” - Ilia

Chapter 18: “This, this makes it all worth it.” - Blake

Chapter 19: “Do we have to?” - Chaos Crew

Chapter 20: “Are you kidding me?” - Ilia/Blake

Chapter 21: “Sometimes you can even see.” - Yasha/Jester

Chapter 22: “How about you trust me for once?” - Ilia/Blake

Chapter 23: “Give me that.” + “I trust you.” - Ilia/Blake

Chapter 24: “Do I have to do everything here?” - Beau & Zeenoth

Chapter 25: “Back up!” - Beau/Jester

Chapter 26: “Just say it.” - Beau/Jester


	2. “No, come back!” + “You don’t see it?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Local lesbians embarrass themselves on the Belladonna balcony.

"That cluster right there is named after the Brothers." Blake pointed at the night sky over Menagerie. 

Ilia closed one eye and tilted her head. "Yeah, any way you could be more specific?"

"You don't see it? Look for the ones that flicker together. They're kinda in an S formation."

"Okay! I found it." Ilia smiled, gaze trained on the constellation. "How did I not notice that before?"

"It's definitely a tricky one. Oh!" Blake sat up straight as some trivia came to mind. "In the stories I've read, the gods had antlers and horns. Just like Faunus."

Wonder showed in Ilia's eyes for a moment, before doubt made them narrow slightly. "You're full of shit, Blake."

"I'm not! Here, I'll show you." Blake pulled out her scroll, searched through the library, and opened _Nascent Nebulas: Tales as Old as Time_. "I know all the sculptures and paintings are of their dragon forms, but whenever they're described as people, they have Faunus traits."

Ilia scanned the passage, the wonder returning with each line. " _Wow._ Alright, I take it back. If I'd have known that, maybe I'd have prayed more."

A bit of pride bloomed in Blake's chest. "I figured you'd like it. I can send it to you if you wanna read the whole thing."

"Sounds good." Ilia quirked an eyebrow. "But what's that one, though?"

"Which one- Ah!" Listed directly under the book she'd closed was Blake’s copy of _Ninjas of Love_. She turned the screen off. "Don't worry about it! Just a story I like."

Ilia cackled, the force of it making her lean forward against the balcony's railing.

Blake hummed, then sidled up to Ilia. "Maybe, if you're nice, I'll read it to you." 

Before Blake could fully pull back, Ilia's entire body had flushed pink.

"You-. I just-. _Wait._ "

Blake tried her best not to laugh. She settled on a knowing smile instead as Ilia short circuited.

"I'm just gonna go now." Ilia stood up and leaped into the tree line below the balcony.

"No, come back!" Blake couldn't stop the laughter anymore as she dove after the chameleon girl.


	3. “That’s the easy part.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's pretend this is part of the conversation Caduceus and Yasha had on the Hofbräuhaus patio.

Frustrated customers stormed out of Hofbräuhaus, fleeing the overwhelming stench of the oops-stone. Neither Yasha nor Caduceus spoke Zemnian, but the tones implied there was no shortage of swears.

Caduceus had done what he could by opening the windows. All that's left now is to enjoy his current company.

He turned to Yasha. "I've now realized that I haven't asked you how you're doing. But I get the feeling you wouldn't have wanted to answer with so many people around."

"Ah. You were right." Yasha looked around at the sparsely-decorated patio. Only one other table had people at it, but the smell made them pack up as well.

Caduceus took a sip of his water. "Whenever you're ready."

Yasha nodded, searching for the words.

"I guess...I'm just happy to be alive. After everything that's happened." She placed a hand on the darkened armor Obann had given her. "And that I get the chance to become better, even though it feels like another fight."

It's strange. With the way Caduceus is staring at her, she'd expected to feel examined, judged in some way. But there's no tension around his eyes, only calm understanding.

Caduceus offered an easygoing smile. "Fighting, surviving. That's the easy part, usually. Living—and actually _wanting_ to live—is what's harder. Rather unfortunately, it complicates everything."

"It does." Yasha whispered.

"But I take it you've found something to inspire this change. A few things, actually."

Yasha glanced through the window at her waltzing friends. "I have."

Caduceus chuckled gently. "Yeah, that's a theme with this group. It's a good one."

Yasha cracked a smile. "The theme or the group?"

"Both. Funny how they feed into each other."

Caduceus paused, leaving room for Yasha to continue if she wanted to. She looked down at her glass and ran a thumb through its condensation.

"And...I am really, _really_ glad I did not kill Beau or any of you. I hope she knows how many ways I mean that."

"I think she does." Caduceus looked upward, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Beau won't push you on it, but I at least get the sense that she knows. She's bold and brash sometimes, but she's also very considerate of you."

"Okay." Yasha took a deep breath. " _Okay._ Good talk, Caduceus."

"Always a pleasure."


	4. “You did this?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ilia teaches new recruits the importance of nonlethal weapons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the show said Ghira's gonna lead a new Faunus movement. And I understand why the White Fang holds painful memories for certain characters. But:
> 
> (1. I love the idea of reclaiming the WF and returning to its original mission statement.  
> (2. It seems a little wasteful to abandon all the WF's organizing infrastructure.

Word gets around fast on Menagerie. Not long after Ghira announced his intent to unify the fractured White Fang, he found himself fielding an overwhelming influx of members.

With no hesitation, he placed Ilia in charge of their training.

* * *

Ilia walked around the engineering room, studying each recruit's schematics as she passed them.

"There is always a choice." She told them. "It may not feel like it in the moment—when you're surrounded or cornered. But the weapons you forge today will help make it for you, cement your commitment to your ideals even as you fight for your life."

Ilia gently ran the pad of her thumb over her lightning lash's handle. Her tone softened.

"Otherwise, that's how you leave a trail of bodies and change nothing. You'll be looking at your weapon—something that's supposed to be an extension of yourself—and wonder: 'You did this? Or did I?'"

She set the lash's charge, holding it up for the gathering to see. Short bursts of lightning arced up the blade. The handle thrummed quietly with energy. With a flick of the switch, the blade relaxed into a whip.

"Out of all the offensive dust types, I chose lightning for my design. It can stun, restrain, and drop someone unconscious."

She heard pencils sketch furiously on notepads and blueprints, a sign the lesson was being taken seriously.

"Even the highest voltage on here would need a full minute of contact to stop someone's heart." The lash returned to its bladed form. "But I've made sure it releases well before that point."

Returning to the front of the room, Ilia looked out over the group. With no masks in sight, the resolve was easy to read on their faces. She smiled.

"Besides. If you ever need that kind of time, you've got another problem on your hands: ineffective takedowns. But that's a lesson for another day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out, I have hella feelings and ideas about the White Fang. So hit me up about them on my [ Tumblr](http://duskydestra.tumblr.com/) cos I need more RWBY fans to talk to.


	5. “That didn’t stop you before.” + “I’m not doing that again.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ilia has a nightmare.

With no major plans for the day, Ilia stretched out on an angled rooftop. The crowded city below had settled back into its usual hustle and bustle, providing a comforting level of background chatter. A gentle breeze kept Ilia cool as she cleared old files from her scroll.

There was a soft thud on the shingles behind her. Rolling onto her stomach to get a better look, she noticed a small fox with brown fur and white paws. Ilia almost turned away, but the fox leaped onto another rooftop and looked back at her.

Ilia knows a messenger when she sees one. Her eyes narrowed as she wondered who would send for her.

Well. Only one way to find out.

She got up and trailed the fox over rooftops, through the market, and between alleys. She muttered a few apologies as she pushed through the crowds. Eventually, the fox darted into a building, breaking Ilia’s line of sight.

Once she turned the corner, she stopped in her tracks. The fragrance of dragon's blood incense hit her first. Glowing white candles were placed carefully to light the entire room. _No. It couldn't be_. As she glanced at the space between bookshelves, a burgundy White Fang banner unfurled itself.

The fox sat in the center of the rug, waiting.

"Why did you bring me here?" Ilia hissed.

The fox said nothing, instead emitting a light so bright Ilia had to shield her eyes. When she could face it again, she was greeted by the smiling faces of Corsac and Fennec.

Fennec opened his arms in a friendly, sweeping gesture. “Ah, Sister Ilia. Welcome.”

Corsac clasped his hands behind his back. “We needed to summon you once more. It’s such a shame that you never completed your last mission.”

Ilia shook her head, taking a step back. “I’m not doing that again. I’ll never do _any_ of it again. And neither of you can make me.”

Corsac tsks at her. “Wasn’t it you who spoke of necessary sacrifices? I thought you believed in our cause.” His deep baritone rumbled disapprovingly.

“I do! Did.” Ilia looked at the ground. “But we were sacrificing our own.”

“That didn’t stop you before.” The brothers said in unison.

Tears welled up in Ilia’s eyes, but she blinked them away. The unsavory nature of the truth made her stomach churn.

“Things are different now.” Her voice cracked. 

She pointed at Fennec. “You died.” She turned to Corsac. “And you’re in jail. If we’d kept going like before, all of us would end up like you two. How do you not _see_ that?”

Fennec lifted his chin an inch to look down his nose at Ilia. “Unlike you, we never had the option of abandoning our people.” The brothers gave a deliberate flourish of their tail and Faunus ears. “And you know how those who stand in the way of progress are dealt with.”

Corsac and Fennec stood back to back. Red and white dust spiraled up their daggers as they fired at Ilia. She reached for her weapon, but gasped as her hand met an empty holster.

Just as the fire and wind rushed forward to immolate her, she woke up. Heart racing, breath heavy, she squeezed her eyes shut again in frustration. At least she didn’t scream this time; but the itchiness on her cheeks told her she’d been crying instead. Ilia wiped her face and flipped the pillow over to the dry side.

She hoped she’d have better luck sleeping tomorrow night.


	6. “Unacceptable, try again.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dairon teaches Beau how to Extort Truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when Dairon had Zeenoth be her and Beau’s punching bag? Cos I do.

Beau’s fists pulsed with a dull ache. They’d been at this lesson for an hour and she had nothing to show for it. She ran her hands through her hair in frustration, barely stopping short of pulling out some strands.

She looked to Dairon, but her mentor’s face gave nothing away.

The only sound in the room came from Zeenoth. His labored breathing seemed to take more effort after each trial. Exhausted, the elf’s torso leaned over the back of the chair, blond hair swaying a few inches above the ground. His round face showed the emergence of dark purple welts at the temple and collarbone.

Beau walked around the chair and squatted in front of Zeenoth. “Hey. Hey, Zeenoth. Look at me.”

Slowly, he opened his eyes and met hers. 

“Do you hate me?” Beau asked sternly.

“You have caused me a lot of grief, but I do not hate you.” Zeenoth whispered hoarsely. 

“Bullshit.” She muttered, then turned to Dairon.

"Unacceptable, try again." Dairon ordered.

“Ugh, how will I even know it worked?!” Beau stood up and crossed her arms.

Dairon walked over and motioned for Beau to set Zeenoth upright. “You’ll know. It’ll look something like this.”

The Expositor jabbed her index knuckle right under the archivist’s jaw and held it there for a moment. Standing so closely, Beau sensed the expulsion and withdrawal of ki.

When Zeenoth opened his eyes this time, his pupils were dilated, face slack. Beau mentally catalogued these changes.

“Now, do you hate Beauregard?” Dairon asked.

Zeenoth blinked. “I dislike her a little more every time she disrupts the archives. But I do not hate her.”

Dairon gave Beau a sidelong glance. “There you have it. Give it a minute to clear, then I want you to try again."

Beau took a moment to massage the sore muscles in her hand. "Yeah, yeah."


	7. “That was impressive.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasha's looking to unwind after her TravelerCon performance.

After giving an enchanting harp performance, Yasha just wants to get the eyes off of her. Thankfully, it seems most of the attendees are focusing on group activities. To her surprise, not many people are taking advantage of the combined fighting and dancing rings.

Well, except for Beau and a drunken Kent Plucker. Yasha heads over to the sidelines.

"Beau?" Yasha calls.

The monk falters when she sees Yasha, but still dodges a sloppy tackle. "Yeah?"

"I've had Skingorger for a very long time."

"Uh-huh."

"So, I think I may be a little out of practice with _these_." Yasha lifts her fists. "This may sound strange, but-"

"Are you asking me to fight you?" Beau smiles as the realization hits.

Yasha nervously scratches the back of her head. "Yeah, I...I guess I am."

Beau pretends to wipe away a tear. "Yasha, nothing would make me happier."

Yasha chuckles as Beau sweeps her opponent aside with her staff and throws the weapon out of the pit. It’s just the two of them now.

“This isn’t usually my style.” Yasha admits, stepping into the ring.

“Give yourself some credit. I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Beau grins encouragingly.

Yasha squares her shoulders. At the very least, she knows to keep her stance solid. Beau does the same, lowering slightly into a more guarded form. After a few moments of staring each other down, it becomes clear that Beau isn’t going to move first.

So Yasha charges forward. She goes for a rather obvious leg sweep, hoping to break up the monk’s defenses.

Beau leaps up over Yasha’s extended leg, plants her foot on the barbarian’s stomach, and pushes herself off into a backflip. Yasha hits the ground in time to see Beau stick a three-point landing.

It takes a moment for Yasha’s lungs to accept air again. Overall, it feels more shocking than painful. Yasha dusts herself off.

“Are you done showing off?” Yasha asks.

“Not yet.” Beau shrugs one shoulder.

With the monk coming right at her, Yasha reaches out to grab her. Beau ducks, sliding under Yasha's legs and landing two punches on the backs of the barbarian's thighs. Yasha's knees buckle as pain shoots down her legs.

Yasha spins around. The dust that move kicked up has yet to settle, and Beau is no longer in sight. Fine. There’s no point trying to be faster. Not with an opponent like this.

“That was impressive.” Yasha gingerly touches her right leg. "Let's see if you can do it again."

The rustling of leaves gives Beau's position away before her determined yell did. The monk swings herself from a sturdy branch, feet heading right for Yasha’s chest.

A familiar sense of rage rushes through Yasha; her limbs buzz with fresh strength. Working on instinct, she sidesteps Beau, grabs her ankles, and slams the monk face-first into the ground.

“Owwww.” Beau groans weakly.

“Oh, shit.” Yasha’s anger dissipates and she rolls Beau over. “Are you alright?”

Beau gives her a shaky thumbs up. “I’m good. _Great._ Probably just gonna stay down here for a sec.”

“At least let me join you.” Without waiting for a response, Yasha lies down next to Beau. Even in the dim lighting, she can see the excitement shimmering in Beau’s eyes.

"That was amazing!" Beau gushed.

"Amazing?” Yasha tilted her head. “We use these moves all the time."

"Yeah, but not on each other. Why don't we do this more often?"

Yasha considers it. “Well, it _was_ pretty fun.”

Beau nudges Yasha’s shoulder with her own. “Then I look forward to our next match.”


	8. “Yes I did, what about it?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beau's not having much luck in the Cobalt Soul's archives.

Aeor. Eyes of Nine. Nonagon. The Tombtakers. There had to be a goddamn connection _somewhere_. Beau felt like it was staring her down from her periphery, just outside the field of view.

Her leg bounced with impatience. The latest book she'd found didn't tell her anything new, and it doesn't even have the excuse of being a compendium like some of the others. Beau was so sick of looking at it, she flung it across the room at a completely different bookshelf.

"Did you just toss a _rare tome_ as if it were one of your darts?"

Even though Caleb's face was partially hidden by his armful of books, the features Beau could see showed his concerned horror.

“Yes I did. What about it?” Beau leaned back in her seat.

Caleb sighed with a hint of exasperation.

"If you're in the mood to throw things, please don't touch these. I don't have it in me to read right now, but I'm going to ask one of the archivists to set these aside for us later." Caleb stacked the books on his side of the table, then pushed them out of Beau's range.

"Good plan." She genuinely thought so, but the rough delivery might imply otherwise.

If Caleb perceived it differently, he didn't say so. Perhaps he's gotten used to that simply being who Beau is.

While Caleb picked up the discarded tome and checked it for damage, Beau gave up on poring over her old notebooks. She rubbed her eyes, trying to ease some of the strain.

If Beau wanted a chance at absorbing any new information, she'd have to take a break first.

"Let's go get lunch." Caleb suggested. "I could listen to you."

Beau immediately got up and shoved the chair into the table after her. "Are you sure you can't read minds?"

Caleb's brows knit together. "Even if I could, I'd never know when it is safe to read yours."

"That's fair." Beau shrugged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave myself a simple Empire Siblings moment. As a treat.


	9. “Will you look at this?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasha invites Beau to enjoy the view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the PWP that took this collection from Teen and Up to Unrated.

Beau slung an arm over her eyes. Her mind raced with concepts, phrases, unanswered questions. No matter how many hours were spent trying to tie everything together, it only got harder the closer she got to exhaustion.

After closing all her notebooks, she gave up on research and climbed into bed. A smile crept up on Beau's face as she sank into the mattress, stretching out naked under the cool, silken sheets. The Pillow Trove had nothing on this.

Two timid knocks came from the door. Beau cracked an eye open, burrowing deeper under the covers. "Yeah?"

Yasha poked her head around the door. "May I come in?"

Beau shot upward, now aware of how quickly she’d tangled herself. "Yeah! Always. Of course."

Yasha chuckled softly. Something about it made Beau's breath catch.

In the dim light, she saw Yasha had already stuck a pressed flower—a purple aster—onto her relaxed sleepshirt. But there wasn't much time to stare. Yasha climbed onto the bed, laying an arm and a leg across Beau's body.

The monk sighed and scooted flush to Yasha. "Do you like your room?"

"I love it." Yasha rolled her shoulder so the aster caught the light. "It’s more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. But it's missing one thing." 

Yasha slowly rubbed her nose along Beau's neck. Beau was certain Yasha felt her pulse stutter; the smile pressed against her skin told her as much.

Yasha hummed contentedly. "Can you do the thing? I would like to see it again." 

Beau blinked. "The what? _Oh._ "

She wiggled an arm out of the sheets and yanked the cobalt cord. 

"Will you look at this?" Yasha's eyes gleamed with wonder as she stared up at Beau's face in the mirror. "How do you even come up with that?"

"Eh, I've thought about it." Beau shrugged. "But, y'know. It's definitely something you get for the novelty."

Yasha turned her head to look the monk in her eyes. "Beau. Would you like a novel experience?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"It's nice to be asked."

"Yeah. The answer's still 'fuck yes,' though."

"I thought so." Yasha said with a smile.

Yasha rolled on top of Beau, unwrapping the sheets still around her lover. "Keep your eyes up top for me. I want you to see what I see."

Beau let out a long, heated exhale through her nose. "Yes, ma'am."

There was a playful lilt to the words, her grin sly and unrestrained.

Yasha's palms left heated trails all over Beau's body. Watching their forms in the mirror, Beau hadn’t even realized how quick she was to lean into every touch, to be handled with care. Her brown face grew warm at both the sight and the thought.

None of this escaped Yasha’s notice. On her journey downward, she pressed a kiss to the center of Beau’s chest, right above the monk’s fluttering heart.

The closer she got to Beau’s core, the deeper they breathed each other in. On each exhale, Beau’s groans built up into short moans. The barbarian sunk her teeth into Beau’s right thigh—a warning. In return, Beau could only muster a shocked yelp and a dazed glance.

"Did you forget already?” Yasha licked the indentation left by her teeth. “These walls aren't very thick. So you'd better work on keeping it down."

Beau drew in a ragged breath. “I’m _trying_.”

“If it helps, you were doing so well before.”

Judging by the brief stutter of Beau’s hips, Yasha figured it did indeed help.

“Eyes up.” She waited for Beau to follow the direction before taking the dive.

She took her time between Beau's legs, lapping up the slick center and swirling the tip of her tongue around the clit. Strong hands gripped the back of her head, a silent gesture Yasha loved.

“ _Yasha_.” Beau hissed under her breath.

Another chuckle rumbled out of Yasha as she traced a pattern that made Beau grip the sheets. She wrapped her arms around her lover’s hips, drawing them closer together, further into her eager mouth. Whichever way Beau squirmed, Yasha followed.

Watching Yasha from this angle had been a mistake. Which is to say, Beau would do it again with no hesitation. Their movements together were enchanting; she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. She’d been keeping the noises down, but the sight of this pushed the limits of her self-control.

Beau saw how her body drew inward, as if offering itself to the rush of sensation. With the final thrusts, her heavy breaths broke down into low groans. The sounds trailed off as Yasha’s mouth kept going, pulling the monk through another wave of pleasure. A sharp moan escaped Beau before it caught up to her own ears. For that, Yasha’s fingers scratched at and dug into the sides of her hips. Beau acknowledged the reprimand with a pained grunt.

By the time Yasha made her way back up to the head of the bed, Beau was struggling to keep her eyes open. She fought the tiredness off long enough to take in Yasha’s amused smile.

“What?” Beau asked, cautiously.

“Nothing.” Yasha said lightly. “You were just a _bit_ wetter this time.”

“I was _not._ ” Beau huffed.

“If you say so. You’d be wrong, but you can say that if you want.”

Beau grumbled in disagreement. However, all crankiness disappeared when Yasha lifted an arm, and the monk moved in for a cuddle.


	10. “All I ever wanted.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake helps Ilia keep the nightmares away.  
> [Continuation of Chapter 5.]

For Ilia, it had been a long week with precious few hours of sleep to hold it together. But with Blake back for a visit, she didn't have to face the darkness alone.

They lied in bed, Blake rubbing slow circles along Ilia's back. There was an open silence between them; Ilia knew there was room to speak her mind, but the fear of letting her thoughts be known settled like a lump in her throat.

She'd spent years ignoring anything that would distract her from her missions. She became whatever was needed of her: spy, instigator, assassin. But without anyone to give her orders, what is left to make of herself now?

Shedding the old Ilia has to be the first step.

"They're wrong about me." Ilia stated.

"Who?" Blake kept massaging Ilia's back.

"Corsac. Fennec. Adam. All of them." Ilia shook her head. “Living as a human won’t save me. I know that. After Atlas, all I ever wanted was to not hide anymore.”

Blake stared encouragingly, as if she knew Ilia was on the cusp of realizing something and wanted to hear her say it first.

"I was willing to do _anything_ to make up for that time. But where I saw redemption, they saw a new soldier." Ilia moved further into Blake's arms. "I can't believe I let them talk to me like that."

She felt a kiss on her forehead.

Blake looked into Ilia's eyes, moonlight streaming across their faces. "The part of you that fights so hard for what you think is best? That existed long before you met any of them, and it outlasted what they tried to mold you into."

Blake gently pressed their foreheads together. "And if they _still_ haunt you, you're strong enough to drive them out again. I know it."

Ilia sighed—half in relief, half in resignation. "I'm gonna have to be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did y'all know chameleons shed? I didn't until I fact-checked an analogy for this.


	11. “I told you so.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beau accidentally starts a fire at the beach.

For what was supposed to be a relaxing day in Nicodranas, the scene was quite frantic. Most of the Mighty Nein had gathered at the beach, enjoying the fireworks shimmering in the night sky. While Beau was setting off rows of rockets for the finale, a few sparks had landed in the grassy picnic area.

It wasn't a huge fire, at first, but it was spreading. The people who'd stopped to see the light show scrambled and screamed on their way back into the city, leaving the beach all to the Nein.

"I won't say 'I told you so,' but..." Caleb gestured toward the fire.

"Y'know, you could help." Beau yelled, wheeling the cart of unpopped fireworks away from the blaze.

"Sure could." Caleb took a sip of his drink instead—hiding a smile in the cup—and kept watching from his beach towel.

With no one else around, Caduceus and Yasha indulged in some bonfire dances. They swayed their arms and hair in opposite directions yet on a similar rhythm. As they twirled around the fire, Yasha plucked a lighthearted tune on her bone harp.

Fjord lifted his arms, an ocean wave rising behind him. As it stretched over the sand to extinguish the fire, Jester reached out and forced it back.

"Jester, what are you doing?" Fjord asked, genuine confusion on his face.

"Look, look!" Jester pointed her tail in Yasha and Caduceus's direction. "I've never seen them dance before!"

"So we're just supposed to let everything stay on fire?!"

"Yes! Just for a few more minutes. It'll be fine, I promise." Without another word, Jester let the water drop onto Fjord's head and joined the dance circle.


	12. “Watch me.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasha just can’t get enough of those Maelstrom Gloves.

The last vulture circles overhead, the rest of its committee lying vanquished on the jungle floor. This fight has gone on long enough. Time to end it.

Beau grins. “Hey. Hey, Yasha. Watch me. Are you watching?”

"Yes, Beau, I see you." Yasha rolls her eyes, but there's an anticipatory smile on her face.

The monk slams her fists together, activating the gloves. Lightning arcs between Beau's fingers and over the backs of her hands. She punches upward, sending an unbroken line of electricity to fry the vulture. It falls to the ground in front of them, its carcass smoking lightly. 

" _Oh."_ Yasha, suddenly out of breath, takes in the obvious pride on Beau’s face. “That was...um...good job.”


	13. “I missed this.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ilia and Blake take a walk through the market.

The market square was crowded with merchant stalls, each with tall coverings to protect wares from the high sun. Ilia's ponytail swayed gently behind her back as different kiosks caught her eye. Her feet started to ache from walking around all day; her belly was still a bit sore from how hard she’d laughed at Blake’s joke. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ilia put a hand up to her face, noting the absence of something familiar.

"I missed this. Uh, not just the mangoes." Ilia looked down at her bag stuffed full of them.

"What do you mean?" Blake asked, genuinely curious.

"This is so stupid, but...I missed walking around without my mask. I don't know."

Ilia tried to keep walking but Blake had stopped.

"It's not stupid." Blake said.

"What?"

"If it's important to you, it's not stupid." Blake reached out and squeezed Ilia's hand.

Ilia rubbed her thumb over the back of Blake’s hand, squeezing it in return. Out of everything she had to work on—within and without—it seemed like it should be a small step, barely even worth mentioning. _And yet_ , it felt like she was dropping a vestigial part of herself whenever she left it at home.

But it’s their day off. Why think about this when everything else has been going so well?

She sighed. “If you say so.”

“I do. C’mon.” Blake tugged gently at Ilia’s arm. “I’ve got a surprise for you, and—no offense—you look like you could use it.”

“Oh, shut up.” Ilia rolled her eyes, but eagerly kept pace with Blake.


	14. “You better leave now.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang fights another succubus. It doesn’t go well for Yasha.  
> [Continuation of Chapter 7.]

Seconds before her lightning gloves deactivate, Beau pummels the succubus out of the sky.

Her leathery wings, lacking the strength to fly anymore, retract as her body hits the dusty ground. Beau rushes forward to continue her assault; Yasha joins her.

Yasha raises Skingorger. The succubus turns to her, eyes alight. As the barbarian starts to bring down her sword, a lilting, cloying voice makes its way into the back of her mind.

“Slay her for me, darling.”

The blade stops an inch before the succubus’s smiling face. Yasha senses her mental grip loosening. It's awfully familiar. She tries to overpower the new urge coursing through her, to cast it out, but her body refuses to let harm come to the creature before her.

Yasha looks at Beau, eyes wide with fear. “You better leave now.” She prays this won’t be the last thing she ever says to her.

Soon, that sentiment is erased. The urge wipes away her resistance, suppresses the guilt.

“Huh?” The monk says, then crouches under the blade headed for her neck. She searches Yasha’s now-blank face.

“What the fuck did you do to her?!” Beau yells indignantly.

“Nothing she couldn't do by herself.” The succubus replies.

Every bit of Yasha’s strength goes into forcefully swinging Skingorger, spurred on by the need to follow orders.

Beau takes out her staff, trying to stay out of range of each strike that comes her way.

“C’mon, Yasha.” She pleads. “Don’t make me do this. This isn’t you.”

 _But it is_. _This is who I’ve always been._

Seeing Beau prepare to knock Skingorger out of her hands, Yasha switches the angle. Beau’s staff splinters with the force of the blow. Yasha follows through, sawing through the top half of the wood. Beau recoils. Yasha brings her sword back around in a figure eight motion, maintaining speed and aiming for the monk’s exposed torso.

A flurry of attacks come from the surrounding Nein, all converging on the succubus. As she dies, her influence fizzles out. Yasha blinks. Beau takes the moment of hesitation to leap over the blade, the fear making itself known on her face.

Yasha lets her sword go, flinging it deeper into the forest. She stumbles to the ground, body lethargic from the sudden loss of adrenaline. Her limbs won't budge, no matter how much she wills them to get up, to run away.

Everyone rushes to her side, some keeping their distance more than others. She feels their eyes on her. Whatever judgment they have for her, she has no choice but to accept it.

Without looking, she knows it's Jester’s hands wrapped around one of hers and Beau’s resting on her shoulder. Their mercy cuts deeper than any wound.

Salty tears leave fresh tracks down Yasha’s face as a single thought chases itself through her mind. 

_I did it again._


	15. “I never wanted anything else.” + “And neither should you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beau refuses to let Yasha sink into herself any further.  
> [Continuation of Chapter 14.]

The campfire crackled on behind Yasha. Even though the very idea of rest felt like a joke, she closed her eyes anyway. Footsteps made their way from the front of camp, signaling the end of someone's watch. From the sound of it, lighter steps were coming her way.

Sure enough, Beau crouched in front of Yasha. She wiped the sand out of her eyes. "I know you're not sleep. C'mon. We're going on watch."

There was no anger. It was a statement of fact. Yasha huffed once through her nose before getting up.

At the edge of camp, Yasha peered out into the dark forest. Beau rested an elbow on her knee and slid the night vision goggles into place. The humid air did nothing about the chill going down Yasha's spine.

Beau sighed. "If you wanna talk about it, we can do that. Or just keep watch. Either way, I'll be here." _For you_ was left unsaid at the end, but they both felt the weight of the implied words.

Yasha swallowed past the lump in her throat. Many sentences piled up in her mind, none of them complete enough to speak. Except for one: "I'm so sorry."

Beau's eyebrows raised. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Those words refused to stick. They couldn't be true. Yasha drew in a shaky breath as the memories came back.

"Beau. The longer I looked at you, the harder it was to remember. When I was ordered to hurt you, she made me feel like I never wanted anything else." Yasha stared at the brown patches of dead grass. "Whatever weakness I have that lets this happen so easily, it's obvious enough that every enemy can see it."

Her chest burned with shame.

Beau pushed the goggles up to her forehead and faced the barbarian. "I never blamed you, Yasha. None of us do. And neither should you. Do you think _we_ think you're weak or something?"

Yasha's hands clenched into fists, tearing out blades of grass. "How can you not? We both know how much worse it could've been. And I ruined your staff this time."

"Sure, but I didn't die."

Yasha winced.

"Sorry." Beau's face softened. "It's just...I can always get another staff. There's no replacing _you_."

Yasha let out a humorless chuckle. "Well, you should probably try."

"For fuck's sake, Yasha!" Beau whisper-yelled, her expression matching her horrified tone. She grabbed Yasha by her shoulders. "Every time you left, we wanted you to find us again. Every time a creep comes up to you, we put ourselves in front of them. And every time someone controls you, we fucking kill them. We'd never get rid of you. _We love you._ "

Yasha paused. The sincerity on Beau's face—and in her words—pierced Yasha right through the heart. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. Beau pulled her into a tight hug.

"I know." Beau reassured Yasha as she cried silently into her shoulder. "I know you don't feel like you deserve it, but that's too damn bad. We won't give up on you, so you can stop giving up on yourself."

Yasha nodded slowly, and returned the hug. With a flourish of warmth to push out the guilt, she believed her this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about the hurt/comfort, the mutual healing, the acceptance of a found family.


	16. “Give me a minute or an hour. Definitely an hour."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after comes too soon.  
> [Continuation of Chapter 9.]

Beau lay wrapped in Yasha's arms and their intertwined legs, both of them more than content to sleep in. But before they get the chance, Beau is yanked up through every layer of sleep there is.

Jester's cheery voice rings loud and clear in her head. " _Heeeey, Beau. It's me. I went to Yasha's room to wake her up but she's not there, so I know she has to be with-_ "

Beau blinks, everything unfocused as she looks around the still-dim room.

" _-you. Caduceus told me not to visit you in case y'all are still doin it. Are you?"_ Jester laughs. _"I'll know when I see your glowing faces._ "

Beau frantically looks toward the door. Yasha grumbles at the sudden movement and pulls Beau closer to her chest.

"Wait. Jester!" Beau whispers as quietly as she can.

" _Just kidding. Or am I?_ " Jester adds with a joking, deep voice. " _Anyway, I need to go to a craft shop for more regular paint. Do you two wanna come with me?_ "

It takes a few seconds, but Beau's groggy mind catches up to the question. "Uhhhh. Give me a minute. Or an hour.” Beau looks up at Yasha, basking in the little smile on her face as she sleeps. "Definitely an hour."

As Beau settles back into Yasha's arms, she wonders if the cats will know how to put bugs on Yasha's breakfast platter. But since finding out would wake Yasha, she decides to cross that bridge when she gets to it.


	17. “I can’t do this anymore.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ilia puts an end to her nightmares.  
> [Continuation of Chapter 10.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, Adam appears in this chapter. This is a nightmare sequence, after all.

The day's training lessons had gone smoothly. The principles of self-defense weren’t hard to explain, and the recruits were diligent in applying new techniques.

Always the last to leave, Ilia pulled the training mats back into the shabby storage closet. As she marked off the things covered in class, her ears picked up the sound of something approaching.

She turned. At the door, she spotted a familiar fox. Brown fur, white paws. This time, there was blood coloring its mouth crimson.

Ilia narrowed her eyes. "You again."

It sat patiently, waiting for her to accept the invitation.

Exhaustion sluggishly flowed through her body. She pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. "I can’t do this anymore. Take me to them."

With only the slightest reluctance, Ilia locked the door behind her. The fox led her outside and through more twisty alleyways. She trudged after it, getting ever so slightly more angry with each turn.

The fox trotted into an unmarked building. The interior was just as they’d left it before, fragrant but with an unnerving aura. She stared the fox down as it claimed its space in the middle of the rug.

"I better not see you again after this." She said.

When the light came, Ilia held up a hand. As she brought it down, her eyes widened in surprise. Three figures stood before her. Corsac, Fennec, and Adam standing between them.

Adam stepped forward. “How nice of you to finally join us.”

Ilia ground her teeth, only stopping when her jaw ached. “I don’t care what you want from me. None of you are getting it.”

“Now, now. Is that any way to talk to the ones who saved you?”

Ilia blinked in disbelief, then everything was tinted red. The weight of her Grimm mask was back. She reached up to rip it off, but it didn’t budge. It was stuck. Panicked, her response died on her tongue.

"Look at you.” Adam sneered. “Is this what your parents would've wanted for you? Talking to ghosts when there's so much work to be done, so much _you’ve_ left unfinished? I wonder what they'd say."

The shock of such statements halted her breath for a moment; her stomach twisted in disgust.

Ilia locked eyes with Adam through their masks. "I’m supposed to believe you know them better than I do? That's got to be the biggest lie you've ever told me."

“It’s the tru-”

“Shut. Up.” Ilia clenched her fists.

Adam raised an eyebrow.

Ilia chuckled darkly at his expression. “You will never know how lucky you are that you were killed before I caught you. It would’ve been the best use of what you taught me. And if you knew a single thing about my family, you’d know they would agree.”

The mask tightened around her temples. Ilia grabbed the sides of the sanded bone and yanked with all her strength. It felt like she was pulling her own face off. She gritted her teeth at the pain, but kept going.

“You think I’m gonna let you control me from the grave?” Ilia spat. Her fingers finally found purchase under the mask. “You’re even more deluded than I thought.”

Ilia let out an agonized scream as she pried the mask off. Corsac, Fennec, and Adam stared on in aghast silence.

“Get out of my head. _All of you!_ ” She flung the mask at them, watching as it scattered their forms like smoke.


	18. “This, this makes it all worth it.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake settles into the White Fang's new office.

Arms filled with the few boxes left to unpack, Blake pushed the White Fang’s door in with her hip. Everything's on one level now, so at least she doesn't have to lug the books up any stairs.

On her way down the halls, Blake peeked into the newly remodeled rooms. Every now and then, she passed other Faunus preparing for the coming week and offered them smiles. Some set up desks in the engineering room, a couple organized the mail room, and others tended to the freshly planted community garden.

Rounding the corner, Blake entered a modest library. The silver carpet offset the blue walls in a way that put her at ease. She set the boxes down on the nearest table and sat down. Her arms were burning, but she’d be done after putting these away.

It had taken a while to collect the stories they had. Blake and a few other dedicated recruits found all the Faunus myths and history books still in print and had them shipped to Menagerie. 

There was a twinge in her heart. Nothing like this site existed when she was growing up in the White Fang. The community was there, but they never established a cultural center like this. Even if this aspect was new to her, warmth bloomed in her chest at the thought of providing it for other people.

_This? This makes it all worth it._


	19. “Do we have to?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Chaos Crew discusses what to do about Trent.

Not long after Yeza left to buy more chairs to accommodate all the new guests, Beau took a look around the scene. Caleb was studying Yeza’s bookshelf. Caduceus drizzled sauce onto a platter in the kitchen. Fjord watched Luc tuck and roll behind various pieces of furniture.

Beau opened the door to Veth’s balcony, beckoning to the rest of the Chaos Crew to join her. “Hey, Fjord. You got this, right?”

“Got what?” Concern flashed across his face.

"My son, Fjord." Veth clarified.

Luc dashed between Fjord’s legs. He made a run for the kitchen, no doubt to bother Caduceus. Fjord lifted the boy up and turned him in the opposite direction. Luc started swinging his legs back and forth, hoping to free himself with momentum.

"Yep, I've got him." Fjord said.

"Now, Luc, don't be too rough with Fjord.” Veth directed. “He is very weak, especially in the legs. They're like twigs."

Fjord frowned. "My legs are just fine."

Luc kicked a foot back and hit Fjord in the knee. Fjord bit back a yell, instead letting out a pained grunt instead, and immediately set the boy on the ground.

"See? Try not to break him too fast." Veth tousled Luc’s hair.

"Okay." Luc said, making another attempt to get into the kitchen.

As Fjord chased after him, Veth joined everyone else outside and closed the sliding door behind her.

Yasha crossed her arms. “So what are we doing? What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“Are we gonna kill him?” Veth tilted her crossbow. "I've got some explosive arrows with his name on them."

Beau hopped up to sit on the railing, considering the idea. “They're all people from Caleb's past, so I think we should follow his lead. And he doesn't seem quick to get in a fight with Trent.”

Jester nodded. “We need to support Caleb, you guys. I don’t think he’d want us to attack his friends, either. They might not be able to leave yet. So we...play nice?” Her voice lilted with uncertainty.

“Do we have to?” Veth asked. The thought of smiling at the man who scarred Caleb so deeply brought on a wave of disgust in her stomach.

Yasha looked down at her. "Be nice? I don't think so. But we do have to protect him."

"Of course. Same as always." Veth smiled.

"So it's settled." Beau cracked her knuckles. "We get there, we find out what the fuck they want with Caleb. And if any of them make a move on him, we can show them why we're the Mighty Nein."

"Yeah." Jester's eyes lit up with an idea. "If Ickythong does something really gross, I'll turn him into a dung beetle."

"Well, he's already halfway there." Yasha smirked. "Shouldn't be too much of a transformation."

"Okay." Beau counted each item on her fingers. "We show up, get some info, maybe turn Trent into a dung beetle, explode him with some arrows… I bet he's never really gotten his ass beat. When he turns back, Yasha and I can put the manacles on him and just whale on him."

"Still fighting old men." Veth laughed. "Old habits, huh?"

Beau pointed at Veth. "That was _one time_. At least this one deserves it."

The front door swung open. Everyone turned to see Yeza struggling to carry multiple chairs into the dining room.

Veth sighed, the endearing nature of the scene putting her at ease. "We should go help him."

She reopened the balcony door, bringing everyone together for dinner with her two families.


	20. “Are you kidding me?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake and Ilia break in the White Fang's sparring room.  
> [Continuation of Chapter 13.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all really rock with these, huh? To everyone leaving comments, just know I see and appreciate them. I’m surprised anyone’s stuck around for this many chapters, but feel free to enjoy your stay.

"You brought me back to work? On our day off?" Ilia stared up at the blue and white building as Blake unlocked the front doors. "Is there something you wanna tell me?"

_Have I been slacking and not even noticed? I've never been in charge of so many people before. Are their performances lacking?_

Blake placed a hand over Ilia's eyes. "I said it was a surprise, didn't I? It's nothing bad. I promise." She said reassuringly.

Ilia took a deep breath, expelling the worry. "Okay."

Blake rested her other hand on Ilia's waist and led them into the building. It was easy enough to tell where they were from muscle memory alone, until Blake walked them around in circles a few times for good measure. Head spinning a little, Ilia leaned on Blake's shoulder for balance.

Turning down an unfamiliar hallway, Ilia picked up the mild scent of freshly dried paint.

"Alright, we're here." Blake slowed to a halt and uncovered Ilia's eyes. "What do you think?"

Ilia blinked. A large red ribbon was tied in front of the sparring room. Seeing the newly-reinforced walls through the windows, her face lit up. She turned to Blake, smiling wide. "It's done! I thought it'd take at least another week."

"So did I. But we finished early." Blake crouched under the ribbon and gently pushed the door open. "No one's used it yet. Except for us, if you're up for it."

Ilia raised an eyebrow at the challenge. "There's no way you thought I'd refuse. Be serious."

"Perhaps." Blake took Ilia's hand and pulled her through the doors. "At the very least, I knew you'd want to see it."

This new room was much wider than the last training center. Empty weapon racks were lined along the gray walls. The original White Fang insignia painted across the tilted floor welcomed them.

"I love it." Ilia's eyes glimmered. "And I can't wait to wipe the floor with you."

"Such confidence. That's how you think this'll end?" Blake slid into her favored stance.

"I do. In fact, you can move first." Ilia put some space between her feet and bent her knees a little. She drew her weapon.

That was all Blake needed to hear. She fired at Ilia, simultaneously dashing out of melee range. Ilia blocked the shots with ease and gave chase.

She whipped her lash forward, wrapping its end around Blake's ankle. The violet afterimage faded. There was only time for a gasp before Ilia's leg was yanked out from under her by a black ribbon. Gambol Shroud’s blade whizzed narrowly past Ilia's face.

On its recoil, Ilia jabbed her elbow into the pistol's Dust cartridge. The ensuing click was faint, so she tried not to smile when she heard it.

Hopping up back onto her feet, Ilia exaggerated the windup of her next swing. Lightning arced around the whip as it sped toward Blake's torso.

In a puff of Dust, Blake found herself trapped in stone. The angle at which her face was stuck meant she couldn't see the rest of her body, but the shock subsided as she realized what had happened.

“Are you kidding me?” Blake groaned.

Ilia chuckled, recalling her lash. "You gotta be ready for anything. Even little tricks like mine." She rested an arm on her girlfriend's petrified shoulder.

Embarrassment flushed across Blake's face. "Maybe...it's time for a tune up."

" _Maybe?_ " Ilia knocked lightly on the impromptu statue.

Blake sighed. "Okay, fine. First thing tomorrow." She disappeared in a violet haze, reappearing next to Ilia.

"But what do we do about this?" Blake stared at the headless statue. "We can't leave it here."

Ilia gave it an appraising look. "Good question. Take it home?"

"I do _not_ want a statue of myself."

"If you make it a coat rack, I bet it's less weird."

"I doubt that." Blake grabbed the stone legs. "If you wanna come up with plans for it, _you_ keep it."

Ilia lifted the other half. "Maybe I will."

Blake grinned as they carried it out. "Then consider it your second gift for today."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to look up which acts as a worse conductor of electricity: ice or stone. The things I do for a bit of realism in my fight scenes.


	21. “Sometimes you can even see.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasha shows Jester some special flowers.

When they walked through the tree line, Yasha could feel Jester's excitement radiate off of her.

The tiefling skipped through the lush field, stopping at different flowers and plants. "Is it this one? Or this one? Maybe these?"

Yasha knelt down in front of a beige flower, its petals slightly shriveled. She cradled the bulb in her callused hands. Jester plopped down onto the ground beside her.

"This is the one I want to show you." Yasha said. "Sometimes you can even see it change colors."

"Whoa." Jester's eyes widened. "That sounds pretty cool."

Yasha nodded. "It is."

A fuzzy bee landed on the flower. As it collected pollen, the petals flourished with hues both dark and light. By the time the bee flew away, the flower settled on a gradient of blue and silver.

Jester gasped. "Yasha, it's beautiful!"

"And now it's yours." Yasha gently plucked the stem from the ground. She wrapped it around one of Jester's horns, tucking the bloom against the side of her hair. "It looks good on you."

"Oh, Yasha." Jester's smile lit up her entire face. She raised a hand and cupped the barbarian's cheek. "Thank you  _ very much _ for bringing me here."

Yasha looked down, suddenly overwhelmed by a rush of emotions. "Ah, well. You know. We passed by them earlier and I knew you'd want to see them."

"You were right. They're very lovely."

Yasha met her soft gaze. "Yes, you a-  _ They. _ They are."

"I heard that." Jester said in a singsong tone.

She noted Yasha's intense blush, but Jester knew there was a very good chance Yasha would pass out if she commented on it. Instead, she rubbed Yasha's back and stood up. "Come on. Let's head back before it gets too late."

"Yeah, okay." Yasha pawed at her face, as if she could wipe the blush away. "Right behind you."


	22. “How about you trust me for once?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ilia pushes herself too far.

Ilia wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her lungs burned from the exertion of training. Even so, she mentally listed the drills she still needed to perfect. Deciding the next course, she gripped her lightning lash.

Ilia lunged from side to side, dodging imaginary gunshots from the training dummy. With a one-handed cartwheel, she launched herself into the air. On the descent, the lash wrapped around the dummy’s midsection. Touching down, her right ankle rolled. Ilia stumbled a few steps to the side. She tried to push through it, but the existing aches and fresh pain brought her to the ground.

It took some effort, but she managed to sit up. There was no ice around, so Ilia reached for her chilled water bottle. Well, it would’ve been chilled if it wasn’t bone dry. _Damn it._ She tossed it across the room in frustration. 

“I knew it.”

Ilia’s eyes snapped to the door, where Blake leaned against the metal frame.

 _Knew what?_ Something about the words stung Ilia more than they were supposed to. Perhaps it was the implication that being caught was inevitable. “How about you trust me for once? I know what I'm doing.”

Blake gave an unamused hum. “I take it the sprained ankle was part of your plan, then? And for the record, this has nothing to do with trust. It's just familiar territory.”

Ilia's brows drew together in slight confusion, then relaxed in understanding.

Blake made her way into the room and knelt in front of Ilia. She gently stretched Ilia’s leg out and applied an ice pack of her own.

Ilia sucked in a sharp breath at the temperature change, but welcomed the relief it brought.

“I figured you’d need one.” Blake said. “Trust me, I've been there. So listen when I tell you: whatever you’re trying to do, running yourself into the ground won't help.”

She handed Ilia a full water bottle. “For starters, how many times did you stop to refill this?”

Where Ilia expected to hear disappointment, there was only concern. She looked at the wall across from them, unable to meet Blake’s gaze. Instead, she guiltily drank the water.

Blake sighed, shoulders lowering. “That’s what I thought. Why, exactly, are you training so much?”

Ilia’s breath caught in her throat. It’s a question she should’ve expected, and yet she’d hoped there’d be no need to answer it. “Please don’t make me say it.”

“I just want to know what could be _t_ _his_ important.” Blake placed her hand on Ilia’s and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“...You.” Ilia spoke it softly, barely above a whisper. An ache of emotion settled in the back of her throat. She drank more water in an attempt to displace it.

Blake’s ears perked up in surprise. “You’re training for me?”

Ilia nodded. “I’ve made a lot of enemies under the old banner. It was one thing when they tried to kill me; I made my peace with it. But if they come after you? I’ve got to be able to save us both.”

When she finally faced Blake, the tears Ilia had tried to hold back spilled down her face. “I can’t lose you again.”

Blake reached out and cupped Ilia’s face with both hands. Her yellow eyes were serious, yet imploring. “You won’t. But if you go on like this, you’ll die from exhaustion first.”

Ilia’s chest tightened. “So what am I supposed to do? Any time I’m not training, they’re only getting stronger. I can’t let them surpass me.”

“If you take care of yourself, they won’t.” Blake wiped away Ilia’s tears with her thumbs. “And you’ve got to trust me to do my part. It can’t all be on you. If you’re in trouble, I’ll be there to save you, too.”

None of this should shock Ilia, but it feels like she’s been sucker punched. She looked down at her iced ankle. No one had come out of the woodwork and attacked her; she'd done this to herself.

Ilia sighed deeply. "Okay. I see your point. Thanks for this. And these." She indicated the water and ice.

"Anytime." Blake searched Ilia's face. Seemingly relieved by what she found, she offered a patient smile. "I'm glad. Took me a while to get it, myself, but you seem a bit quicker on the uptake."

Ilia had to laugh. "Ha! Me? Quicker than you?"

Blake looked at Ilia through a small space between her thumb and forefinger. "Just a little."

To fend off frostbite, Blake kept adjusting the ice pack. When enough of Ilia’s aura had returned to undo the ankle’s remaining damage, Blake hefted Ilia onto her back and carried her home.


	23. “Give me that.” + “I trust you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progress such as this should not be rushed.

It had been so long since habit—rather than fear—was what woke Ilia. Still in bed, she stretched and took inventory. No tears on the pillow. No knots in her stomach. No cold sweat staining her sleep shirt. Instead, there was lightness in her chest where guilt used to be a permanent fixture.

Since she'd woken up before her alarm, she got up and switched it off ahead of time. Padding down the hallway, the sound of shifting in her living room caught her ear. Must be Blake. Ilia poked her head in the room to offer a "Good morning," but soon was at a loss for words.

Blake was holding Ilia's remaining Grimm mask. The box she was about to put it in was one Ilia had seen before: a wooden chest filled with old White Fang memorabilia. Between confusion and indignity, she couldn't decide which to feel first.

Ilia cleared her throat. Blake's eyes snapped up to hers, and the surprise in them couldn't be more evident.

"Ilia!" Blake covered the mask with both hands, as if that would hide it. "You're up early."

The words didn't even register with Ilia. She walked over to the coffee table and held out her hand.

"Give me that." Ilia said calmly.

Blake paused, considering her options, before wordlessly returning it to her.

Ilia ran her index finger and thumb over the curved chameleon horns. Unless she changed colors, this polished bone mask was the only Faunus feature she had. She remembered the ceremony of receiving it; how it was presented as a symbol of pride, of conviction. But then came all the reminders of what she'd done while hiding behind it. The pang of regret was all too familiar.

"You don't wear it anymore." Blake shifted awkwardly on the couch. "I've seen how you look at it when you put it out of sight, kind of like how you are right now. I suppose I was hoping you wouldn't immediately notice it was gone."

"So you didn't trust me to get rid of it on my own." Ilia had meant for it to be a question, but the flat tone let on that she knew the answer.

Blake's head and ears lowered with guilt. "It’s not that. I trust you."

Ilia sighed. This is not how she expected this morning to go. "I'm choosing to believe you mean that. But you'll have to show me by not hiding my things. Once I figure out how I want to get rid of this, I'll do it."

Blake nodded, locking the chest of outmoded artifacts.

Ilia placed the mask back on her hearth's mantle. "I know you're just looking out for me, but I've got this."

Turning away from Blake, she rubbed circles along her temples. As Ilia made her way back through the hallway to finish getting ready, she tried to recapture how good she'd felt upon waking. With enough time and a shift in focus, she knows she can return to it.


	24. “Do I have to do everything here?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beau gives Zeenoth shit at the Cobalt Soul.

Impatient as ever, Beau tapped the end of her pencil against the desk. She’d gone through the pile of books next to her twice now. Info on lost cities only gets harder to corroborate when there are no primary sources.

Zeenoth turned the corner. Beau sat up, but the eagerness disappeared when she saw his empty hands.

“Nothing? _Again?_ ” She sighed heavily.

Zeenoth stopped at the other side of the desk. “There is only so much I can do, Beauregard. I’m afraid we don’t have any more references to Aeor other than what’s on this table. If you require more, you can always put in requests with the reserve and vault.”

Beau fully leaned across the back of her chair and groaned. “Do I have to do everything here?”

Zeenoth glared ever so slightly. "I can assure you that you have done _plenty._ "

"Don't I know it.” A small grin played at her lips for a moment. “Get outta here, Zeenoth."

She waved him away. Zeenoth gave a short, but long-suffering huff before returning to his archival duties.


	25. “Back up!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beau's a little grumpy, so Jester tries to cheer her up.

On the way back to the inn, Beau kicked a rock down the dirt path. Part of her was still bitter about missing so much of the action during the group's last fight. It wasn't her fault, technically, but that didn't make her feel any better about it.

Jester slowed down, letting everyone else pass her, to walk beside Beau. _Why isn't she saying anything?_ When Beau looked up, Jester's expression was simultaneously expectant and pleading.

Beau's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Beau switched up the tone at the last second to shave off some of the aggressiveness.  
"Because you're sad."  
"I'm not sad, Jester."  
"I can tell these things about you, Beau." Jester rubbed the monk's arm. "It's okay that you couldn't punch as much today. We still won!"

Beau grumbled in acknowledgment. "I know, I know. I just wish you didn't have to heal me all the time. It's embarrassing."

At some point, Beau had lost track of the rock she was kicking. Choosing a new one, she punted it forward.

"Oh, Beau. You'll always be my favorite person to heal. C'mere." Jester stretched the word out with a smile. The tiefling opened her arms and stepped toward Beau.

"What? No." Beau sidestepped Jester's attempt to scoop her into a hug.

Jester stared at her empty arms, then looked back to Beau. She planted her feet on the dirt road as if she was going to rush the monk.

Beau quirked a brow in disbelief, walking backwards to keep facing her. "Jester. Don't make me run for it, cos I will. Back up!”

Jester's tail swished playfully behind her back. "Do it. I bet I can catch you."

Never one to turn down a challenge, that was all Beau needed to hear. She took off—swift as the wind—and bolted past the group. She hopped over roots and ducked branches as if she’d been through here a million times. But near the tree line, a hazy swirl of pink and purple smoke appeared. In the second it took Beau to blink, she didn't have time to change course before barreling right into Jester's strong arms.

The air was knocked clean out of Beau's lungs.

Jester took a few steps back so as to not be overwhelmed by the force of their collision. She used some of the momentum to lift Beau off her feet and into a bear hug.

When Beau could breathe again, she relaxed over Jester's shoulder and awkwardly hugged her back.

"Feel a little better?" Jester asked.  
Beau grinned cheesily. "Yeah."  
"Do you want me to put you down now?"  
"I mean.” Beau’s face heated up. “If you wanna keep carrying me, I won't stop you."  
"You got it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Beau would never turn down a hug from Jester. But if she did, I imagine it'd end up like this.


	26. “Just say it.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worn out during TravelerCon, Jester takes a cue from Beau.

Due to the festivities, the beach of Rumblecusp was more peaceful during the day. Jester found a lull in guests’ arrivals and excused herself to sit on the warm sand. With slumped shoulders, she stared out over the gleaming water.

Jester’s conversation with The Traveler words replayed in her mind. As the words kept turning over, her hands absentmindedly fiddled with the hem of her green cloak. Feelings of betrayal and anger cropped up, returning more harshly when she tried to push them back down.

She wanted to scream, but her nerves were hyper-aware of all the people milling around on the island.  _ I’m supposed to be his High Priestess. _

Footsteps sunk into the sand behind her. Jester whipped around to see Beau heading her way.

Beau sat cross-legged beside Jester. “We’ve set everything up for the drum circle. That’s the last of what we need to take care of today.”

Some of the tension in Jester’s shoulders eased up. Beau looked down to Jester’s restless hands. Jester rushed to wipe her palms on the sides of her dress and fold them onto her lap.

Beau hummed. “What’s on your mind?”   
Her eyes widened. “What? Nothing’s on my mind. I’m fine.” The look she got in return said it all; Beau didn’t buy that.   
“Just say it. You clearly want to.”   
Jester’s mouth twisted to the side. With everything already at the forefront, it wasn’t long before the words came spilling out. "I'm mad, okay?! The Traveler was just going to leave his followers behind. And if I wasn’t his favorite, he’d have left me too.”

Jester’s hands flew up to her mouth. The weight of what she said finally hit her with full force. She tried to blink the tears away, but a few still managed to fall.

Beau drew Jester into a one-armed side hug and squeezed her shoulder. "It’s definitely one of his shittier moves. You’re allowed to feel however you do about him. He’s got no say in that.”

Jester nodded, sniffling quietly.

“Hey.” Beau offered Jester a small smile. “Do you wanna punch something?"   
Jester met her eyes, then looked back at the sand around their legs. "I shouldn't."   
"C'moooon. You'll feel better. I promise." The monk gasped as an idea came to her. “I can hold the welcome sign up for you. It needs some holes, anyway. What did they say, something about wind resistance?”

All the times Beau came back from training with the biggest smile on her face played out in Jester’s memories. The monk always seemed so exhilarated. Maybe there was something to this.

Jester sat up and wiped her tears. "...Okay."

Heavy winds had nearly toppled the sign, its wooden supports leaning back halfway between the ground and their original placement. Beau uprooted the posts, then slammed them down further into the ground. She turned to Jester.

“Alright. What you wanna remember is: keep your wrist straight, follow through, and never  _ ever _ punch with your thumb inside your fist.”

Jester cracked her knuckles. She formed two fists and held them up. “Like this?”   
“Perfect.” Beau pulled the sign taut. “Don’t hold back.”   
“Oh, I won’t.”

When stretched, the material didn’t seem quite as thick as before. She searched for spots between letters. Jester let the punches fly, switching hands when her knuckles started chafing. The fabric gave off a satisfying tearing sound as she bore through it. Blue fist sticking through the other side, Jester caught Beau’s impressed gaze.

“Look! I did it!” Jester was out of breath, but too excited to contain her happiness.   
Beau grinned. “You sure did. Keep going.”

Once she got into a rhythm, Jester made quick work of the rest of the sign. She was careful to not puncture the letters. It still needs to be readable, after all. All the emotions from earlier flowed steadily now. For so long, they’d been trapped in a closed circuit within her. With this, each hit sapped a bit of their hold on her.

Arms burning, she eventually worked her way through enough areas to consider the sign perfect now. Jester wiped the sweat off her forehead.

“How do you feel now?” Beau asked.   
“My hands hurt. A lot.  _ But. _ ” She took a step back and admired her handiwork. “I see why you like doing this so much.”   
“Yep. And just think: when this is all over, you can punch his real face. He owes you at least one.”   
Jester flung her arms around Beau’s abdomen. “You’re right. Thanks, Beau. I needed this.”   
Beau returned the hug. “Of course. If you ever need any more training, you know I’m never far.”


End file.
